


sparks

by thepsychicclam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Blood Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, College Student Stiles, Dark Magic, Derek and Boyd are bffs, Fluff, Librarian Derek, M/M, Magic Stiles, Semi-Public Sex, So is magic and all other supernatural stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a librarian at one of the few supernatural universities in the country, and his student worker turns out to be none other than grad student Stiles. And it doesn't take long before they start dating. Stiles is a gifted spark, but he keeps hanging out with people who are into dark magic, and Derek's worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sparks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuminescentLily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminescentLily/gifts).



> Written for Sterek Campaign winner, LuminescentLily!! She wanted a universe where magic and werewolves are known, Stiles to be discovering his abilities, falling into the wrong crowd, and Derek trying to warn him bc of his past connections to dark magic.
> 
> I hope this is what you wanted :33 I fought with this fic so much bc I just wanted it to be perfect for you. I've never thought about writing magic!Stiles, so thank you for giving me a prompt that made me push and challenge myself! Also, thank you for being so patient :33 
> 
> This turned out WAY fluffier than I intended - I blame 3b :P

Friday nights at the university library are the worst. Only two types of people come into the library on Friday nights: uptight over-achievers who needed to get a life, and students who were drunk or high and looking for a place to screw around. Derek really hated both types.

He shouldn’t be at the library anyway. Derek’s normal hours were Monday through Friday, 9-6. He didn’t get two master’s – one in library science and one in advanced magical archives – so he could waste his Friday nights boredly reading behind the circulation desk. That’s what student workers were for. But the usual Friday night student worker just _didn’t show up for work_ , and when Derek had walked out of his office at 5:30 to see what the loud commotion was, he’d found a line of annoyed patrons at the circulation desk, waiting to check out.

After Derek had gritted his teeth and apologized to the disgruntled students who “had better things to do on a Friday than hang around to check out some dumb library books,” he’d called the university work study office. It was late in the day, so the best they could do was call to see if any of the other student workers wanted to put in extra hours.

But so far, no luck. It’s just after 7 p.m., and Derek has checked out two books and read half of a lame crime novel. He should have at least picked a better book off the reshelving cart.

Derek is in the middle of a sentence when someone comes up to the desk. He keeps his eyes trained on the book and ignores them, but that doesn’t seem to scare them away. So he lifts his eyes and sets a baleful glare on the kid standing on the other side.

“They already sent someone down here?” The guy scratches his chin in confusion. “The work study guy told me they needed someone to pick up the late shift tonight, and I really needed the extra cash.”

Derek closes his book and lowers his feet from the chair they were propped in onto the floor. “You work here?”

“Um, yes?” He runs his long, thin fingers through his hair. “I’m Stiles. I work all the shit shifts – you know, 6 to midnight on weekdays, long hours on the weekends.”

That explains why Derek’s never seen him. He has the exact opposite schedule as Derek, and even when Derek leaves after six, he takes the elevator to the ground floor because it’s connected to the parking deck. Besides, the university hires so many student workers that Derek never glances at the circulation staff or the shelvers if he can help it.

“Thank god you’re here now,” Derek says. He stands up as Stiles slips around the desk and pulls his messenger bag over his head just to drop it to the floor without a thought. Derek’s mouth forms a hard line as he watches. “I expect you’re competent enough that you don’t need anyone here to help?”

“Why? Am I the only one on duty?” Stiles asks. “Cause, I’ll be honest with you, I’ve never done this by myself. Usually there’s someone else here.”

“How long have you been working here?” Derek asks.

“Four years,” Stiles responds. He pauses and smiles as a girl walks up to the counter. Derek watches as he swipes her library card and then checks out her three books. When she walks away, Stiles says, “I started when I was an undergrad, and I kept the gig as a grad student.”

“Do you think you can handle being here alone?” Derek asks. He’s not sure if he should be worried or not, leaving the library in the hands of a student worker for the night. But it is Friday, and he’s a graduate student.

“Um, yeah, sure.” Stiles doesn’t look convinced, but Derek’s not going to press. He may not have exciting Friday plans, but stretching out on his couch with a book and take out sounds better than staying at the library.

“Here,” Derek says, grabbing a slip of paper and the tiny pencil from the counter. He scribbles something on the paper and slides it over to Stiles. “That’s my cell phone number. If there’s an emergency that doesn’t require campus police, give me a call.” Derek points his finger in Stiles’ face. “But _only_ if there’s an emergency. Got it?”

“Got it,” Stiles says. “By the way, just out of curiosity, who are you?”

Derek blinks, and when Stiles just shrugs and looks at him with a curious smile, Derek rolls his eyes. “Derek Hale, academic librarian.”

“Oh, _you’re_ Derek Hale,” Stiles says. “That explains so much now.”

Derek opens his mouth to ask, but decides the better of it. He knows that the student workers dislike him because he expects them to work instead of goofing off while they’re on duty. And half of them want to sleep with him – he can smell the lust pouring from them, especially the freshman and sophomores. It’s irritating.

Derek turns to go, and Stiles calls after him, “I’ll try not to burn down the place, but I’m not promising anything.” Derek grunts, hoping he doesn’t regret leaving his library in the hands of Stiles come Monday morning.

*

Derek spends four hours a day on the reference desk. When he’d taken a job at the one paranormal university in northern California, he’d thought that he would be dealing with people like him. Supernatural beings who wanted to further their understanding of their culture, their skills, their science, or their history. It’s why he’d decided to get a master’s in library science with a focus on paranormal studies in addition to his initial master’s in advanced magical archives. He didn’t want to work with the general population, but after a few years in his job, he has realized the only difference between the students he comes into contact with here is that these students have, for lack of a better term, some kind of superpower.

He mostly helps frantic undergrads who are too lazy to do their own research or who have waited until the last minute. Every time a student responds to “When is the paper due?” with “Um, tomorrow?”, Derek has to take a deep breath to keep from wolfing out. Dealing with stupidity is not part of his job description.

Occasionally, he gets a grad student and spends an afternoon helping them with papers, presentations, or if he’s lucky, theses or dissertations. He’s helped Magic students find rare spell books and Potions students find recipes and encyclopedias of ingredients. Sometimes he helps werewolves looking for books about lore, history, or advanced Pack dynamics. Occasionally, he’s even helped a Seer find books on runes or classical semiotic theory. Those are the exciting afternoons when Derek enjoys his job.

So far today, though, he’s had two undergrads with papers due in the morning who hadn’t even started their research, and one kid whose paper was due at six p.m. He’d made that kid cry.

“Hi.” Derek looks away from his computer screen to where Stiles has just dropped into the empty chair by the desk. “I didn’t burn down your library.”

“I see that,” Derek says dryly. “My thanks.”

Stiles grins and pulls a notebook out of his bag. “I’m in here all the time, and not just when I’m working,” he says as he opens his notebook. “I don’t know how I’ve never seen you before.” Stiles starts rummaging through rumpled papers as he searches for something. The disorganization makes Derek cringe; he can’t imagine how anyone studies or writes anything worthwhile with a notebook shoved together like that.

“Can I help you with something?” Derek asks after Stiles has been sitting there for a few minutes. He’s now pawing through papers in his messenger bag.

“Ah-ha! Yes!” Stiles brings out an ancient, battered tome. Derek loathes the thought of it being shoved inside the messenger bag with the other stuff. “I’m working on my thesis project, and I found a reference to a book that I needed some help finding.” Stiles flips open the book and points to a title in Old High German. “My Latin is passable, but Old High German? Nope. I tried searching the system, but found nothing.”

Derek flips to the bibliography at the end of the book and jots down the information. He does a cursory search of the university’s catalogue, though he’s sure he’d remember if they had something like that. 

“So, what are you?” Stiles asks as he fidgets in his seat. Derek doesn’t take his eyes off the computer screen as his fingers fly across the keys. “I’m obviously magic, a Spark. Didn’t figure it out until I was in high school. The town vet figured it out, can you believe it? He’s an emissary, so that’s how he knew.”

Derek finds the book in the collection of the paranormal university in the northeast. “They have the book at the Northeast campus,” Derek tells Stiles. “Since it’s in their rare book collection, you have to have authorization from someone to get it shipped here.”

“Who can authorize it?” Stiles asks. When he catches Derek’s eyes, Stiles grins. “Dude, that is awesome. You have power.”

“It’s not power, Stiles. And yes, I can authorize it. You just need to fill out a request form, and once it’s here, it cannot leave the library.”

“Dude, that’s awesome.” He claps his hands. “I mean, the whole book is in Old High German, but I need some of the marginalia for the chapter I’m working on, and I think there’s a spell I can use if I can translate it.”

While Stiles rambles, Derek opens a drawer and retrieves a form. He pushes it in front of Stiles. “Fill this out, and you’ll have it by the weekend.”

As Stiles scribbles his information, he says, “You never answered my question. What are you?”

“A librarian.”

Stiles glances up and gives Derek a frustrated look. “Seriously? I know that. I mean, you’re obviously supernatural. My best friend, Scott, is a werewolf, my other friend is a Banshee, my other friend is a hunter – which isn’t very paranormal, but with the whole Hunter-Supernatural alliance she decided to get a degree in like diplomacy or something. I don’t really understand what she does, if you want to know the truth. They’re both halfway across the country, but at least Scott stuck around. His girlfriend is a kitsune. This other guy I know is a Kanima, and that was a whole big debacle back home, but apparently a Kanima can be good.” Stiles shakes his head as he scribbles his name. “I should have been a general studies major or something. I already feel like a walking bestiary.”

Derek takes the form wordlessly and starts typing in the information needed for the loan. “Your request has been submitted. You should receive an e-mail when your book arrives, which should be Thursday or Friday.”

“Awesome.” Stiles grins, and starts shoving everything back into his bag. “So, you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Can I guess?” Stiles asks, pausing to look at Derek. “If I guess correctly, you tell me.” Derek doesn’t say no, so Stiles takes that as encouragement. “All right. Magic?”

“Nope.”

“Dammit,” Stiles mutters. “You don’t even seem like a warlock or a spark. Can I guess again?”

“Not today.”

“So, tomorrow?” Stiles stands up and drapes his bag over his shoulder. 

“If you want,” Derek says, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll be back,” Stiles says, backing away and bumping into the recycling bin. He flails around a bit, then flushes in embarrassment. “Yeah, right. I’m, um, going now. Have a nice day.” Stiles waves, and Derek finds himself fighting a smile when he turns back to his computer screen.

*

“Emissary?” Stiles asks the next day. Derek shakes his head and keeps walking towards a meeting. 

The day after that, Stiles sticks his head into Derek’s office at 5:55 and says, “Banshee?”

“Do I look like a Banshee?” Derek asks. Stiles just laughs and leaves the room.

“Mermaid?” Stiles asks when he comes to the rare book room for his pick up on Friday.

“You’re just making shit up now,” Derek says as he hands over the book. Stiles had been grinning at Derek, but the moment his eyes land on the book, he’s lost in the world of magic. “Just make sure you actually do your job tonight and don’t end up spending all evening in here,” Derek says as he leaves Stiles with the book. Stiles just waves his hand distractedly.

Derek wonders how Stiles hasn’t guessed werewolf yet. He’d said his best friend was a werewolf, and they weren’t extremely common, but common enough that werewolves attended the school. Maybe it’s because he was born this way, but Derek just thinks he _looks_ like a werewolf.

But it didn’t matter now. It was 6 pm on Friday, and unlike last week, he is able to leave. “Have a good weekend,” Derek calls out to Stiles as he slips on his jacket and heads for the elevator. Stiles doesn’t even look up.

*

Derek walks into the campus Family Life building on Saturday morning carrying two coffees. It’s ten a.m., but if he knows Boyd, he’ll be ready for a second cup. 

“You’re a god,” Boyd murmurs when Derek pushes through the door. 

Derek gives him an amused smile as he hands the coffee over. “I’m just stacking up favors for a later date.”

“Ass.”

“Anything for me today?” Derek asks as he takes a sip of his own drink. Every Saturday, Derek volunteers at the Sibling Support program Boyd runs for supernatural youth. While the general population was aware that a large percentage of what they used to think were “normal” people actually possessed powers, some people were not accepting. Even after decades of being known, people still picketed and called supernaturals names. Derek had been called an abomination more times than he could count. It was especially hard on young people, especially those whose powers were just manifesting. While the program catered to everyone (even non-supernatural beings), Derek and Boyd’s specialty were newly bitten werewolves. Mainly because Derek had been the one to bite Boyd, and had seen firsthand the problems that accompanied it.

Boyd hands Derek a file. “Newly bitten wolf, runaway.”

Derek nods as he peruses the file, glancing over the guy’s information briefly before walking into the sparse room smelling of stale food and antiseptic. Derek wished Boyd had the funds to make this place a bit homier, because the clinical empty feeling of the room set even his senses on edge.

The kid in question, Isaac, is seated at a table, wearing a leather jacket and slouching in the small plastic chair. According to his file, he’s just turned 18, graduated from the high school last spring, and his dad reported him missing in June. His limbs are spilling everywhere, and with his brown curls and overly affected tough expression, Derek can immediately tell how nervous and young the kid truly is.

“Morning, Isaac,” Derek says, sitting a bottle of water on the table in front of Isaac. “I’m Derek.” Isaac stares at the table and drums his fingers across the surface. So, it was going to be like this. Derek sighs. “How are you this morning?”

Isaac shrugs. Derek sits back in the chair, sips his coffee, and waits. After a few moments of silence, Isaac glances at Derek, then behind him. Derek looks over his shoulder and spies Sheriff Stilinski watching them from the door. Derek waves, and the sheriff returns it with a friendly smile.

“Personal escort by the sheriff,” Derek says. “You must feel special.”

Isaac snorts. “He dragged me here against my will. Said maybe I’d feel comfortable talking to someone like me. Like I’m some freak.” 

“The sheriff doesn’t think that,” Derek says, shaking his head. “His son is supernatural.”

Isaac’s interest is immediately piqued. “Yeah? He a wolf, too?”

Derek shrugs as he takes another sip of his coffee. “I don’t know actually; I’ve never met him. You should ask the sheriff. But believe me, you couldn’t have hoped to be brought in by a better man.”

“I guess,” Isaac grumbles. “At least he didn’t shove me around like some of the other deputies.”

“Did you deserve it?”

“Maybe.” Derek huffs out in exasperation as Isaac picks at the table. After a few more silent moments, Isaac says, “So, what is this exactly? Some kind of sad supernatural runaway therapy? Cause I’m not talking.”

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Derek replies with a shrug. “I’m a werewolf, born a beta and now an Alpha. Boyd is one of my betas, and I was around when he first got bitten. He was younger than you. So, I’m here to help.”

“No one can help me,” Isaac mutters.

“Not with that attitude,” Derek says. Isaac glances up at him in shock. “Look, Isaac. So, you’ve committed petty vandalism and shoplifting to get attention. And you may be used to social workers and other types coddling you because of your hard life or whatever. But you’re not going to get that from me. Life sucks. You’re not the only one who’s been through hell, so if you want to act like an ass, then you can just keep on acting like an ass.”

Derek stands, and Isaac glances at the sheriff. “But he said if this doesn’t work out, I might end up in jail.”

Derek shrugs. “Oh well, that’s life.” He turns around and strides to the front, where Boyd and the sheriff are chatting.

“See you met Mr. Lahey,” the sheriff says with a frown. “He’s a right bundle of sunshine.”

“He’s terrified, confused, and pack-less,” Derek says. “Who bit him?”

The sheriff shrugs. “Passing Alpha. The Bureau of Supernatural Affairs gave us a heads up that there were a string of newly bitten werewolves that had been reported. Most had family that helped them, but Isaac’s dad…Isaac refused to go home, and since he’s 18, I can’t make him. If you made me choose between his dad and jail, I think he’d be better off in a jail cell.”

Derek watches Isaac thoughtfully for a few moments before turning to Boyd. “When he asks, you can give him my cell number or my address.”

“Think he’s going to ask?” Boyd asks.

“I know he will.”

*

Derek’s hunch was proved correct. Later that evening, Isaac called Derek, and they arranged a meeting at a coffee shop near campus for the next day. Which is how Derek finds himself sitting in uncomfortable silence while Isaac glances around the shop nervously.

“Difficult, isn’t it?” Derek asks.

“What?”

“Learning to focus with your heightened senses.”

When Isaac turns his eyes to him, he looks tired and frustrated. “Does it ever get better?”

“You learn to live with it. As I understand it, it’s very similar to tuning out sounds, sights, and other distractions as a human, just on a much more intense scale.”

Slowly, Isaac starts to settle around Derek, and after an hour, he’s got Isaac talking about school. “I know it’s the middle of the semester, but I can pull some favors so that you can audit classes until you can officially enroll next semester.”

“I don’t know, Derek,” Isaac says, but before Derek can respond, someone approaches the table. Isaac’s head snaps to the side, and he instinctively scoots closer to Derek. Derek wonders not for the first time just exactly what happened to him.

“Derek!” Stiles says cheerfully as he approaches the table. Isaac tenses, but Derek acts like there’s not a skittish, newly bitten werewolf sitting beside him. 

“Hey Stiles.” Stiles glances from Derek to Isaac, and Isaac leans closer to Derek. Stiles looks at him curiously, and Derek says, “Stiles, this is Isaac. Isaac, Stiles.”

“Nice to meet you.” Stiles extends his hand, and Isaac looks at Derek before nervously taking it. When Isaac pulls away after just a moment, Stiles glances between them before saying, “I got what I needed from that book. A spell that will fit perfectly into my thesis, and I think I translated it correctly. And the marginalia, dude, you should see it!”

Derek nods, smiling slightly. “I’m glad that it was helpful.”

Stiles stands there for a few uncomfortable moments, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it then. See you at work.”

“Bye, Stiles.” Derek watches him walk away, but before Stiles has gone too far, he spins back around and rushes back over. “Vampire?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Goodbye Stiles.”

“You owe me a coffee or something when I guess.”

Derek suppresses a smile. “Maybe.”

The grin that Stiles gets lights up his whole face, and he backs away, almost overturning a display of loose leaf tea. Derek snickers as Stiles leaves the shop, embarrassment rolling off him.

*

That week, Derek sees Stiles come into the library multiple times with people he’s never seen before. Most of the time, Stiles comes in with a dark-haired boy, other times an Asian girl, but the people he’s been with recently are new. 

Stiles doesn’t see Derek as he makes his way towards the stairs with the group, two boys and a girl. They have an aura of magic like Stiles, but unlike Stiles’ normal gold magic hue, the three students are surrounded by hints of deep purple. 

Black magic. Derek would know that look anywhere.

Stiles disappears into the stairwell, and Derek goes back to his work. 

It’s really none of his business; Stiles is just another student worker. But Derek can’t shake the chill that runs through his veins at the very thought of dark magic.

*

On Thursday, Stiles enters Derek’s office fifteen minutes before closing. He drops the borrowed leather tome onto Derek’s desk. “Thanks, dude. Seriously, this book is awesome.”

“You’re welcome,” Derek says, moving the book to a table behind him covered with other rare books that need to be returned. “Did you get everything you needed?”

“Yep.” Stiles leans against the desk and crosses his arms. “So, was that your boyfriend with you at the coffee shop?”

“What?” Derek exclaims.

“Hey, I don’t judge. Be pretty hypocritical since I’m gay.” Stiles shrugs.

“Isaac is 18.”

“Ooh, scandalous. You’re what, 32ish? That’s like half your age.” Stiles leers at him.

“He’s my sibling, in the Sibling Support program.”

Stiles looks at Derek like he’s grown a second head. “You’re a big brother? Voluntarily?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Yes, why is that so hard for people to believe?”

Stiles laughs. “Dude, just…you.” Derek glares at him, and Stiles looks smug. “So, not your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Derek says, his ears burning. He’s not quite sure this is an appropriate conversation to be having with a student worker in his office, but with Stiles leaning against his desk like that, long legs all but pressed against him, Derek can’t be too bothered.

“So, do you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?”

“No boyfriend or girlfriend.”

Stiles bites his lip to keep from smiling. “No boyfriend. I’m really sorry about that.”

“Yeah, you look sorry.”

Stiles pushes himself off Derek’s desk and leaves the office. Derek takes a deep breath, which is just a bad idea. The whole office smells like Stiles, and what Derek hopes might be Stiles’ own special brand of attraction.

*

“Giant?” Stiles asks as he enters Derek’s office Friday afternoon holding two cups of coffee.

“In what universe would I be a Giant?” Derek asks, pushing himself back from his desk, unable to hide the smile curling his lips when Stiles passes him the coffee. 

“A universe of little Lilliputian people who build tiny houses and fish from tiny boats.”

Derek shakes his head. “What is wrong with you?”

“You could be a giant if you had genetic modification. Or height plastic surgery.” Stiles shrugs. “Obviously.”

Derek takes a sip, and the coffee is exactly how he likes it. The thought shouldn’t please him as much as it does. “How in the hell do you not know what I am by now?”

“Dude, I figured out you were a werewolf that first day. Right after I stupidly asked if you were magic. My best friend’s been a werewolf since we were sixteen. It’s pretty obvious, to me at least.”

Derek’s taken aback; he did not expect Stiles to know. Or better yet, didn’t expect Stiles to admit it. “Then why have you been bothering the crap out of me and guessing the last few weeks?”

Stiles’ cheeks color, and it makes Derek want to kiss him stupid. “How else was I supposed to keep talking to you?” He takes a sip of his coffee and stands up. “I’m gonna, ugh, the desk. Right.”

As Derek watches Stiles’ retreating back, he says, “Don’t I owe you coffee now?”

“What?” Stiles spins around, mouth agape.

“Because you figured out what I was.” Derek’s not quite sure what he’s doing. It’s not technically against the rules to date a student, especially a grad student, but it’s still one of the most ballsy things Derek has ever done. He’s just waiting for Stiles to say no.

“Um, wow, yeah. I’d, I’d love to have coffee with you.”

Derek grins. “How about tomorrow?”

*

Derek should not spend as much time in front of the mirror getting ready as he does. “You look fine,” Isaac says from where he’s perched on the edge of the bed beside Boyd. Boyd’s just smiling.

“It has to be over five years since I’ve seen him go on a date,” Boyd says. “Plenty of hook ups, but this is new.”

Derek turns and glares at Boyd. “Not all of us can be engaged since eighteen.”

“You’re engaged?” Isaac asks.

“No,” Boyd responds, but he looks embarrassed. “Long time girlfriend, Erica.”

“Can I meet her?” 

“Trust me,” Derek says, turning around and checking out his ass in his jeans. “You don’t want to meet Erica.”

“I’m telling her you said that.”

Derek glances at Boyd in the mirror. “Please don’t. I’d prefer not to be mauled on the next full moon.”

“She’s a wolf, too?” Isaac asks eagerly. Derek hides his small smile as Isaac talks with Boyd. He’s come out of his shell quite a bit the last week, and now that he knows that Derek and Boyd are both werewolves, he’s been eager to meet even more.

Derek tugs on a lavender t-shirt and then pulls on a grey cardigan. 

“You look like someone’s grandpa,” Boyd drawls. Derek glares at him in the mirror.

“He’s right you know,” Isaac says. 

Derek spins around, still glaring. “I regret introducing you two. And the sweater stays. It’s cold outside.”

“Don’t blame us when Stiles refuses to touch your dick,” Isaac says, and Boyd bursts out laughing. 

*

Stiles is already at the coffee shop when Derek gets there. He’s at a corner table, drumming his fingers nervously on the table, but when he spots Derek, he tries to act calm. His rabbiting heartbeat gives him away, though.

“Hey,” Derek says as he takes the chair opposite Stiles. Stiles smiles widely, and Derek self-consciously tugs at the cuffs of his sweater.

“Hey. I was afraid you wouldn’t show.”

“Why?” Derek asks. 

“I don’t know,” Stiles laughs awkwardly. “I just don’t know why you asked me in the first place.”

Derek leans close. “I’ll give you a hint,” he whispers. “It’s because I like you.”

Stiles blushes a deep pink, and he stands up suddenly, nearly overturning the chair. “So, um, coffee? Tea? Soda? Water? _Croissant_?” he finishes in a bad fake French accent.

Derek reaches into his pocket, pulls out his wallet, and hands Stiles a few bills. “Hazelnut coffee. Get whatever else you want.”

“That’s dangerous,” Stiles jokes, taking the money, his fingers brushing against Derek’s lightly.

Stiles returns a few moments later with two coffees, a muffin, and a pastry of some sort. “I was kinda hungry, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

“This is great.” Derek smiles, and Stiles relaxes a bit.

They talk for hours. They share the desserts, Stiles stealing most of the pastry and the majority of the muffin, and Derek lets him. His eyes track the way Stiles’ fingers move nervously, picking piece by piece off the food, like it’s just something to do. Derek’s pretty sure that Stiles doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“My dad didn’t quite believe me when I told him,” Stiles explains a few hours later. They’re on their third drinks - bottles of waters this time, a lemon cookie between them. “He said there was no way his son was a supernatural being, especially not a spark. It doesn’t run in our family that we know of, but since my mom died when I was 9, it’s not like I can ask her, you know?” Stiles sighs as he tears short lines in the napkin on the table. “She could have been a spark and we’d never have known it. I’d never have known it if it wasn’t for Deaton.”

“There are a lot of supernatural powers that remain dormant until they are forced out,” Derek says. “You’re lucky this Deaton guy saw it in you. Though, I can’t imagine you without the faint glow of magic around you.”

Stiles’ head cocks to the side, and he smiles in confusion. “Is it really that obvious?”

“To a werewolf, yeah.”

“Scott doesn’t see it.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t know what to look for.”

“It was hard for my dad after people found out I was a spark,” Stiles continues. “He’s the sheriff, so – “

“Your dad is Sheriff Stilinski?” Derek exclaims, and Stiles startles. “How have I never put the names together?”

“You know my dad?” Stiles asks. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, he actually brought Isaac into the center. He’s a good man.”

Stiles beams. “Yeah, he really is.”

They continue talking until Stiles’ stomach growls so loudly that Derek notices. They go down the street and grab a pizza, and afterwards, Derek walks Stiles towards his car. Stiles is walking closer to him, his hand brushing Derek’s every so often. 

“So, I had a good time,” Derek says. It feels lame, but at the same time, it feels completely right in the moment.

“Me, too.” Stiles steps a bit closer, his body bumping against Derek’s as they walk. 

“Hopefully, we can do this again.”

Stiles turns and looks at him sharply. “Are you even for real right now? With the nervous suggestion of a second date like there would ever be a universe where I would say no.”

“Stiles, I have not assumed you would say yes this entire time, not even when I asked you to coffee.”

Stiles stops and just stares at Derek in shock. “You’ve got to be kidding. Who in hell would say no to you?” Stiles’ hand waves in the general direction of Derek. “Have you looked in the mirror? You have to have looked in the mirror because your beard is perfectly groomed, unless you’ve got some werewolf grooming senses that Scott just somehow missed, cause let me tell you, he – mph!” Stiles’ ramble is cut short by Derek’s lips against his. Stiles’ lips are chapped, but they’re soft and full, and Derek never wants to stop kissing Stiles now that he’s started.

“Wow,” Stiles breathes when they finally part, his forehead pressed against Derek’s. “I, just, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Derek agrees. His hands are bunching in Stiles’ shirt on his hips, just itching to reach underneath the hem and touch.

“I kinda really want to invite you back to my place, despite that it’s the first date and I never just hop into bed with people, but I just really want to take you home, but Scott’s girlfriend is there, so we’d have an audience, and while I’m not judging if you’re into that, I’d like our hypothetical first time to not be with an audience just waiting to give us scores like an Olympic event.”

Derek pulls back and stares at Stiles, shaking his head. “What in the hell are you even talking about?”

Stiles laughs. “I don’t know.” He kisses Derek again, and Derek pulls him closer, arms snaked around Stiles’ torso. 

When Derek pulls away, he says, “We can go to my apartment.”

“Huh?” Stiles blinks at him, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Hot damn, why are we still standing here?” Derek laughs as Stiles grabs his hand and drags him towards their cars.

*

Stiles is as vocal in bed as he is normally. He serenades Derek with a litany of “yes, fuck, yes, right there” and “please, please, harder” and Derek’s name over and over and over. 

It’s fast and uncoordinated. Derek trips as he tries to step out of his jeans, and Stiles knocks his head on Derek’s headboard when Derek thrusts a little too enthusiastically. But they just dissolve into laughter and kisses, and Derek doesn’t mind that he almost comes too soon and Stiles gets a leg cramp because he just keeps touching Stiles’ body and kissing his neck, and it’s some of the best sex Derek’s ever had. 

Afterwards, Derek is pressed behind Stiles’ naked body, his fingers trailing along Stiles’ arm lightly. Derek has hardly gotten his fill of Stiles’ body, barely saw it as they clumsily jerked each other off before Derek went straight to fucking Stiles. He’s got plans for later, plans that include Stiles spread out on the bed, with Derek’s mouth on every part of Stiles until he figures out which spots make him moan.

“Do you sleep with a lot of your student employees?” Stiles asks. Derek freezes, and Stiles immediately says, “Shit, that’s not, that’s not what I meant to say. My brain is come-dumb. Ignore that. I don’t think...”

“I know,” Derek says, kissing the side of Stiles’ neck. “And no. You’re the first.”

Stiles squirms around in Derek’s arms, grinning. “Everyone wants to sleep with you, you know? I think I should feel some kind of pride. Out of everyone, you choose little ol’ me.”

“Which I’m starting to regret,” Derek jokes, and Stiles nuzzles against his neck, which shouldn’t excite Derek as much as it does. Usually, it repulses him, but he just wants Stiles to keep rubbing and kissing him there, branding him with his scent.

“I should go,” Stiles sighs after a few minutes.

Derek can’t fight the disappointment. He says, “You can stay.” Stiles looks surprised, and Derek says, “I’ll make you eggs in the morning.”

“Ooh, sweeten the deal, why don’t you?” Stiles grins and wiggles his arm under Derek’s side so he can wrap his arms around him. “I think I might be persuaded.”

“Well,” Derek says, leaning close and whispering against his ear, “I have plans for you if you stay.”

Stiles rolls them over until he’s straddling Derek’s lap, hovering just above him. “Plans?” Stiles leans down and kisses him. “I like the sound of that.”

*

Sunday afternoon, Stiles is lounging on Derek’s couch, eating a sandwich and wearing one of Derek’s t-shirts and a pair of his pajama pants. The shirt hangs loosely on Stiles’ slight frame, and the pants are tied as tight as they can be and still slide down his slender hips, revealing the jut of his hipbones. Derek tries to keep himself in check, tries not to spend the entire movie that he’s _not_ paying attention to nuzzling into Stiles’ neck and shoulder, or rubbing the t-shirt against Stiles chest, or trailing his fingers along the crease of his hips.

Stiles slaps his hand playfully when Derek dips his fingers beneath the waist of the sleep pants. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

“Mmhmm,” Derek responds, moving his hand lower until he’s lightly stroking Stiles’ cock. He’s kissing along the column of Stiles’ neck, behind his ear, and along his jaw, and Stiles is slowly hardening in his hand. 

“Is this a werewolf thing?” Stiles asks. “Because that would explain a lot about Scott’s sex life.”

“Werewolves are tactile,” Derek mumbles against the underside of Stiles’ jaw. He wraps his fingers around Stiles’ shaft and starts stroking, and Stiles takes a sharp breath. “And overly sexual. And aroused by scents.” Derek drags his nose behind Stiles’ ear and inhales loudly. “And your scent drives me fucking crazy.”

“I really wanted to watch the movie,” Stiles mutters as he melts against Derek, his legs splayed open. Stiles lifts his hips and shoves the pants down to his thighs, and Derek speeds up his wrist. Stiles wastes no time in pulling out Derek’s cock and jerking him. The angle is awkward since Stiles is seated back against the couch and Derek is turned into him, mouth still attached to his neck, but Derek is too excited by the idea of Stiles to care.

After they come, Derek pulls off his t-shirt to clean off the come, and then he stretches out with Stiles behind him, arms wrapped around Derek’s chest. 

Stiles drops a kiss to the side of Derek’s head. “Now I’m going to finish my movie.”

*

Derek’s dozing on the couch when someone knocks on his door. Stiles unwraps his arms and legs from around Derek, and Derek rubs his eyes sleepily as he pads to the door. When he opens it, Isaac is standing on the other side, grinning widely.

“Smells like you had a good time last night,” Isaac says as he pushes his way inside. “Boyd sent me over here to test my sense of smell, and dude, I am so getting him back. It reeks. I’m guessing Stiles must have been – oh shit, hi.” Isaac colors when he notices Stiles sitting on the couch. Stiles looks as embarrassed as Isaac.

“Stiles, you remember Isaac?” Derek asks with a smirk. 

Stiles gives Isaac an awkward wave, and Isaac turns to Derek with wide eyes. He whispers, “I didn’t expect him to still be here.”

Derek clasps Isaac on the shoulder. “Guess you were wrong about the sweater.” He laughs as he returns to the couch.

“What about the sweater?” Stiles asks.

“Isaac said it was ugly.”

“Actually, I said you wouldn’t touch his dick while he was wearing it,” Isaac corrects as he drops into an armchair. “You have as questionable taste as Derek.”

Stiles laughs and squeezes Derek’s arm. “I loved the sweater. It was sexy.”

Derek smirks at Isaac, and Isaac rolls his eyes.

Stiles and Isaac end up spending the afternoon playing video games on Derek’s Xbox that he never uses anymore, and Derek stretches out on the couch and reads a book with his feet in Stiles’ lap.

It’s the best Sunday Derek’s had in a long time.

*

Monday Derek catches Stiles’ scent, followed closely by Isaac’s. “Oh god,” Derek mumbles as he pushes away from his desk and walks into the library. “This can’t be good.”

Derek is rounding the circulation desk when he spots Stiles talking animatedly, his hands flailing, followed by Isaac. And the trio from before. Derek watches them as they take the wide stairs up to the second floor. One of the guys looks bored, and the other guy is glaring at the back of Stiles’ head. All three are surrounded by a dark purple hue.

Derek goes back into his office, and catches up on all his reports while trying to get his mind off Stiles.

*

Stiles spends Tuesday night at Derek’s place. Derek orders Chinese and texts Stiles about it, and Stiles shows up fifteen minutes later.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks when he opens the door. He wipes the duck sauce off his chin with the back of his hand.

Stiles immediately looks embarrassed. “Oh, I thought…when you texted…that…that you meant it as a dinner invitation?” He’s blushing all the way up to his hairline, so Derek just grabs him and tugs him inside. 

Derek presses Stiles back against the closed door, and hovers right above Stiles’ mouth. “Hi.”

Stiles swallows, his eyes flicking between Derek’s eyes and mouth. “Hi.”

Derek smiles and leans forward to kiss him. The press of their mouths is gentle and unhurried, and Derek slowly slides his hands under the hem of Stiles’ t-shirt. Stiles’ skin is warm, and Derek drags his thumbs against his sides. Stiles hums contently into Derek’s mouth, and Derek nips at Stiles’ tongue before sucking on it lightly.

When Derek slides his thigh between Stiles’ legs and pushes up against his balls, Stiles breaks away with an exasperated laugh, his head falling back against the door. Derek immediately kisses along Stiles’ chin and down his neck. 

“I thought I was getting dinner,” Stiles jokes.

“I can stop,” Derek mumbles as he pulls the neck of Stiles’ t-shirt to the side. He bites into the tender flesh, and Stiles moans. 

“Nope, nope. This is fine.” 

Derek laughs against Stiles’ shoulder. He drops another kiss there before he pushes away. “No,” Derek says, pecking Stiles on the lips. “Food first.”

“Are you always like this?” Stiles says as he follows Derek into the living room where take out containers are spread across the coffee table. Stiles grabs an eggroll before sitting down. 

“Like what?”

“Touchy and kissy and just generally horny? Is it a werewolf thing? I mean, Scott’s always gotten really enamored with his girlfriends, and believe me, I have heard _copious amounts of details_ , details I will never erase from my brain. There are just some things two bros should never share, you know? And various things your girlfriends make you wear when you fuck is one of those,” Stiles says, grabbing the nearest container and pulling noodles out with his fingers. “But nothing was more awkward than when Scott dragged me to the sex shop to pick out restraints and a paddle. But I got him back, though.”

“How?” Derek asks, watching with amusement as Stiles sucks the end of a noodle into his mouth. 

Stiles grins evilly. “I made him help me pick out a vibrator.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Was it satisfactory?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Stiles smirks. He stretches his leg and rubs his foot against Derek’s thigh. “Maybe one night I’ll have to show you.”

“And you say I’m the one who’s horny all the time,” Derek points to the carton in Stiles’ hands and laughs. “Eat.”

“Is it a werewolf thing?” Stiles asks again.

Derek shrugs. “Maybe? I think it might be a you thing.” Derek doesn’t think he’s ever seen Stiles look so shocked or embarrassed. Derek has to lean over and kiss him.

Stiles spends Wednesday night, too.

*

On Thursday, Derek is still in his office after his usual hours. When he goes to the reference desk at 7 pm, Stiles leaves the circulation desk to come talk to him.

“You left your post,” Derek says as he logs onto the computer.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks. 

“I work here.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an ass. You know what I mean.”

“Mary is on a one month trip to Venice. She’s working in the archives connected with San Marco, so the rest of us have to take up the slack,” Derek explains. He’s not exactly happy with it. Not only is he a little bit jealous that Mary lucked out with the fellowship to do work abroad, but now he has to work late one night a week. Which just makes pretending he’s not with Stiles even harder.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stiles asks quietly.

“I just didn’t think about it,” Derek replies even quieter. “I have been preoccupied with other more important things lately.”

Stiles blushes and smiles. “Okay.”

Later, when the other student worker has gone to reshelve and Derek is helping sort holdings and returns at the circulation desk, Stiles asks, “How do I get access to the second level rare book room?” 

“You need special written permission from an advisor or professor, approval from the dean or head of the department, an explanation of why you need the book in question, and a librarian with you at all times while inside the room,” Derek rattles off.

“Really? All that?”

Derek pauses and looks up. He gives Stiles a small nod. “Yeah, why?”

“I was hoping to get in there and peruse a few of the books.”

“Just get all the forms and signatures, and it won’t be a problem. Students use it for their theses and dissertations all the time.”

“It’s not for my thesis.”

Derek sets the book he’s holding aside and turns towards Stiles, crossing his arms over his chest. “No? Then why do you want access to the room?”

“I’ve been practicing my magic, trying different things and trying to broaden my knowledge base, and Cassie and Troy said – “

“Who are Cassie and Troy?” Derek asks, an uncomfortable sensation settling in his stomach.

“A few friends of mine. We have this magic club thing, where we practice with each other and work on different skills.” Stiles shrugs. “They told me there are books in there that have some helpful spells in it.”

“Are these Cassie and Troy part of the three people you come into the library with sometimes?” Derek asks.

“Yeah.”

“They’ve got the aura of dark magic around them. You need to be careful.”

Stiles sighs. “It’s not like that. They’re cool. Yeah, they have practiced with some dark magic before, but it’s nothing huge. Even I’ve cast a few spells here and there when – “

“Please tell me that’s not true,” Derek says, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Um…”

“Stiles, dark magic is _dangerous_. It’s not something to play with.”

“I’m not an idiot, Derek,” Stiles snaps. 

“Stiles, the books in that room are dangerous. That’s why they’re so heavily guarded and there so many procedures put in place to access them. They’re not for practicing or to be used lightly. Dark magic has a life of its own.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles says, “I was just hoping that you could help me get it because I’m curious and – “

“No.” Derek abruptly stands up. “I’ve got some stuff in my office I need to finish.” Derek doesn’t even glance at Stiles as he strides to his office and shuts the door behind him. He spends the next few hours attempting to do work, but the whole time he just can’t stop thinking about Stiles dabbling in dark magic, Stiles hanging out with those people, and Stiles using him just to get some book they needed. 

Five minutes before the library is supposed to close, a soft knock sounds on the door. After Derek calls out, Stiles pokes his head in the office. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Um, I’m about to leave.”

“Okay.”

“Derek, talk to me. I don’t even know what I did.”

Derek sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “You didn’t do anything. It’s just been a long day. We’ll…we’ll talk tomorrow or something, okay?”

Stiles takes a step back, visibly hurt. Derek knows Stiles was supposed to come to his apartment again after he finished his shift, still has clothes in a bag on Derek’s floor. 

Stiles turns and leaves without a word, and Derek growls in frustration.

*

Derek doesn’t see Stiles on Friday, and when he drags himself into the Sibling Support group on Saturday morning, Boyd does a double take.

“You look like shit,” he says.

“Eat me.”

“Derek, what’s wrong?” Boyd kicks out the chair and points to it. “I’m not letting you near any of the kids today. I can’t handle a lawsuit when one of my mentors wolfs out unexpectedly.”

Derek flashes his red eyes, and Boyd flashes his gold ones defiantly. Derek growls as he rolls his eyes, but he drops into the seat anyway. He crosses his arms and looks around the room boredly. He notices Isaac at a table, a book open in front of him. “What’s he doing here?”

“Sheriff’s orders. Part of Isaac’s probation, he still wants him coming every Saturday, even if he is just sitting here for a couple of hours,” Boyd explains. “Now stop diverting. What’s wrong?”

Derek sighs and rubs a hand across his face. “Stiles.”

“Man, it’s been a week. How have you fucked that up already?”

Derek glowers at Boyd, but then he deflates. He stares at his hands in his lap. “He’s dipping into dark magic.”

All of Boyd’s levity immediately disappears, and his face hardens. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Derek shakes his head. “Is it like…?”

Derek shakes his head. “No, he doesn’t even realize what he’s messing with, which is dangerous.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Boyd asks gently.

“I don’t know.” Derek barks out a bitter laugh. “The thing is, Boyd, I _really_ like Stiles, and it’s been years since I’ve even looked at someone. But I can’t go through this. Not again.”

“Warn him,” Boyd says. 

“I tried.”

Boyd frowns. “Did you really warn him, try to talk with him? Or did you growl and glare?” 

“Fuck you, I’m leaving.”

“Derek, stop being dramatic.” Boyd turns and yells, “Isaac! Come here.”

“Boyd.”

Boyd ignores Derek as Isaac comes loping over with a grin. “Hey Derek! What’s up, Boyd?”

“You and Stiles are friends now, right?”

“Boyd,” Derek warns again.

Isaac looks between them curiously. “Yes. Why?”

“Sit,” Boyd says as he pulls a chair to his desk. He turns to Derek and says, “Hush.”

Derek huffs and crosses his arms petulantly over his chest. “Last time I checked,” he mutters, “I was the Alpha.”

“It’s always Alpha/Beta with him,” Boyd says to Isaac. Isaac watches them, grinning. “Not everything is a wolf power dynamic, okay? So don’t believe him, no matter what he says.” Boyd’s smile is quickly gone, though, when he glances over at Derek and back to Isaac, Isaac visibly turns in on himself. “What’s going on with Stiles?”

Isaac glances between them in confusion. “I don’t know? He doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Stiles tells the mailbox what he had for breakfast,” Derek drawls, and even the gentle rib makes him sad. He misses Stiles, and hates this whole situation.

“Why are you asking me?” Isaac asks. “You’d know better than me.”

“How much dark magic is your little group into?” Derek finally snaps. “And don’t say none, because I’ve seen the aura around those people you hang out with, and Stiles admitted to experimenting with it.”

“Look, I’m not some tattletale, okay?” Isaac says. “If you got a problem with your boyfriend, grow some balls and ask him, not me.” Isaac sprawls his limbs out and drums his fingers against the edge of Boyd’s desk in a clearly defensive pose.

Boyd sighs. “Can you two act like civilized adults? Please?”

“Isaac,” Derek asks, gritting his teeth to keep from losing his temper. “Are you using dark magic?”

“I gotta go.” Isaac jumps up abruptly and rushes from the building, his books left open and forgotten on the table. 

“See what you did?” Derek accuses Boyd. “This is all your fault.”

“Children,” Boyd says, shaking his head. “I’m surrounded by fucking children.”

*

Stiles ignores Derek when they pass one another at work on Monday. Derek sighs and continues towards the elevator. 

He doesn’t see Stiles again until Thursday when he works his late shift. Derek goes behind the circulation desk to grab a stack of holds, and Stiles asks accusingly, “Why did you ask Isaac about me?” Derek just looks at Stiles, but says nothing. Stiles rolls his eyes. “What is your deal? It’s not like I’m some dark mage. And neither are my friends.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Why do you even care? It’s not like we’re even together!”

Derek flinches involuntarily, the words hurting him more than he expected. Stiles looks at him a little less sure and angry, and for a few minutes, they just stand there, staring.

“Are we together?” Stiles asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” Derek replies. Stiles frowns, and Derek sighs. “I wanted to, be together. I don’t spend almost four nights out of a week with someone that I don’t have plans of more than idly pursuing.”

“I kinda wanted something more, too,” Stiles admits. “I kinda…I kinda really miss you.”

Derek glances around the empty library and steps towards Stiles, close enough that Stiles’ knees brush the front of his legs from where he’s seated. Quickly, Derek runs a hand along Stiles’ cheek.

“I’m not into dark magic.”

“I know,” Derek says. “Your friends are dangerous though.”

“Look,” Stiles says. “You stop telling me who to be friends with, and I’ll be cautious, okay?”

Derek nods, conceding. “Okay.”

*

Stiles ends up at Derek’s place that night, and they make up until well after 3 a.m.

*

Stiles comes in with the members of the group a few times during the next week, and although Derek can see the purple of their aura darkening, he remains silent. Stiles is still shining a bright gold, so he’s not too worried. Isaac hangs out with them all the time, too, which also makes Derek feel better.

Derek wants to make Stiles understand why this is dangerous. “Tell him the truth,” Boyd suggests when they have lunch. “If you’re serious about him, tell him about Jennifer.”

Derek doesn’t want to go down that road, doesn’t want to open old wounds and relive painful memories. He decides to trust Stiles, even when Stiles tells him over dinner about the new spells he tried earlier that day. He didn’t say he was with the trio, but he didn’t have to.

Thursday, Derek is upstairs in the reference section when two arms snake around his waist and lips press against his neck.

“Stiles,” Derek says, somewhere between a moan and a warning. 

“How’d you know it was me?” Stiles murmurs against his ear, where he’s started nibbling on it gently.

“Who else is going to be so brazen as to kiss me in the library?” Derek asks. 

“Anyone with eyes.”

“I smelled you.”

“That’s kinda gross.”

Derek huffs and turns around, Stiles’ arms loose around him. “We could lose our jobs if we get caught.”

“We’re not going to get caught,” Stiles says. “I know for a fact that the security cameras don’t catch this angle, and it’s fifteen minutes from closing, which means the place is basically dead. Greenburg’s on the desk, so…” Stiles grins evilly as he drops to his knees and starts undoing Derek’s fly.

Derek looks around wildly, his heart pounding in his chest from excitement and worry. “Stiles, are you fucking insane?”

“Probably a little,” Stiles says as he pulls Derek’s cock out through the fly and slides his lips over the head. Derek’s cock is soft and limp in Stiles’ hand, but as Stiles works his mouth over him, he starts to harden. 

Derek realizes at this point that it’s futile to stop, so he leans against the stack behind him, his hands resting on Stiles’ head. His senses are alert, and he hopes that he’s not distracted enough to miss someone if they approach.

Before long, Stiles has Derek completely hard, and he’s sliding his lips along his shaft, cheeks hollowed as he sucks. The slurping sounds Stiles’ mouth is making are loud in the silent library, and Derek just hopes like hell they don’t get caught. And, as one of the academic librarians, he feels a little guilty at being so turned on at the sight of Stiles on his knees, sucking him off in his library between the stacks.

“You’re being loud on purpose,” Derek hisses after a few more minutes.

Stiles pulls off with a loud, wet pop, and licks his lips. “Perhaps.”

“You’re a fucking menace.” Stiles grins and goes back to sucking his dick.

After Derek comes, biting his lip to keep from crying out, Stiles swallows every last drop before standing up and pulling out his own cock. “My turn.”

“I hate you so much right now,” Derek says as he gets to his knees. Stiles grips his hair roughly, tugging painfully at the strands as Derek takes him all the way to the root, the head of Stiles’ cock bumping the back of his throat.

“Yeah, you really look like you hate me while choking on my dick,” Stiles says.

After Stiles comes, Derek gets to his feet and pulls Stiles into a bruising kiss. “I don’t even know what to say right now.”

“That I’m a genius, the best boyfriend ever, provider of fantasies. Something like that.”

Derek laughs and slaps Stiles’ ass as he pulls them out of the stacks.

*

Derek gets a call early Sunday morning. Stiles is on his couch eating the banana bread Derek baked, and Derek is stretched out with his head in Stiles’ lap, reading. The call is from campus security.

“Should I come with you?” Stiles asks, following Derek into the bedroom and leaning against the doorframe as Derek dresses in jeans and a Henley. 

Derek shakes his head. “It’ll look weird if you show up, too. I’ll just see what they need and be back shortly.” Derek pauses where Stiles is still in the doorway, and pecks him quickly on the lips. “You can stay until I get back.”

“I was planning on it,” Stiles grins. “I’ll do some work on my thesis while you’re gone.”

Derek kisses him again and leaves the apartment.

When he gets to the library, he’s not greeted by campus security, but by Sheriff Stilinski.

“Sheriff,” Derek says with a nod. “Is there a problem?”

“A bit, yeah.” The sheriff sighs and leads Derek to the stairwell. “You had a bit of a security breach last night. Someone tried to break into one of the secure rooms.”

“Which one?” Derek asks, somehow already knowing the answer.

“The second level rare book room.”

Derek scrubs a hand over his face. “Were they successful?”

The sheriff shakes his head. “Nope. One of the student workers saw the damage this morning and called campus security. Whoever broke in somehow disabled the alarm. Looks like they tried an invalid keycard, then tried to pry the door open with a blunt object, and I think they tried to use magic after that.”

“Magic?” Derek asks, dread gathering in his stomach.

The sheriff eyes him carefully. “Do you know anyone who would want to break in? What’s in that room?”

They approach the door, and Derek can see the tell-tell signs of magic surrounding the door, can even smell the slightly burnt odor of ozone in the air. “It’s definitely magic.” 

“You can tell, just like that?” 

Derek nods. “The room has rare books and manuscripts, some of which are extremely dangerous in the wrong hands. Students and faculty are allowed in to use the books, but they have to go through a process to obtain permission.” Derek tries to swipe his ID through the reader, but whoever had tried to break in had damaged it so it wouldn’t read. Derek sighs; just more paperwork and headaches for him.

“I need to ask you a few questions,” the sheriff says. Derek nods, brow furrowed as he glares at the door. It’s just all too coincidental. “Who was working last night?”

Derek’s stomach drops into his feet. He swallows and looks at the sheriff. “Stiles.”

The sheriff’s face flickers for a moment, but then he’s digging his cell phone out of his pocket and telling Stiles to come down to the campus library. Derek fills out paperwork as they wait for Stiles to arrive, annoying forms about security precautions and what was damaged and other tedious business. By the time Stiles comes barreling up the stairs, Derek’s ready to claw everyone’s eyes out.

Stiles comes rushing up to them, _fuck_ , wearing jeans and one of _Derek’s_ old pullover university sweatshirts. He looks so sexy and smells so much like _claimed_ that it takes all of Derek’s good sense not to shove Stiles up against the wall and fuck him. In front of his father. Who is the sheriff.

Derek shakes off his madness and tries to focus on what Stiles is saying to the sheriff, not the heavy musk of _them_ curling itself around Derek’s head. God, it’s in that moment that he realizes he’s got it bad.

“Are you sure there was no one inside when you left?” the sheriff asks.

Stiles nods his head. “Greenburg had done a sweep before he left at eleven, all the other entrances were locked, and I sat there for an hour and played Candy Crush in plain view of the door. People only left the library.”

The sheriff writes down some things, then asks, “Where’s your library access card?”

Stiles glances at Derek, “It’s at yo- _my_ place,” Stiles quickly corrects, whipping his head towards his father. Derek tries not to face palm right there. “Definitely my place, yep, that I share with Scott. No one else. Except sometimes Kira. But that’s a whole different story and – “

“Stiles,” the sheriff cuts in. Stiles looks thankful for a reason to stop rambling, and the sheriff glances between Derek and Stiles suspiciously. Derek can see it now, killed by the sheriff AND unemployed. And this had started out as such a lovely morning with nothing but Stiles and banana bread.

“Anything else you can think of, son?” the sheriff asks. “Anything suspicious at all? People casing the library, repeat patrons, shady looking characters?”

Stiles’ face scrunches in concentration for a few moments, but then he shakes his head with a frown. 

“Where were you last night?” the sheriff asks.

“Are you seriously asking me for my alibi?” Stiles asks. The sheriff nods. “I was…with…a friend.”

“Does this friend have a name?”

“He does,” Stiles nods. “Sure does.”

“Well, can I have it?” the sheriff prompts impatiently.

“Uhhh,” Stiles stammers, looking conspicuously over at Derek. Derek tries hard to look natural since his _boyfriend is an idiot._

“Right,” the sheriff says, scribbling something on the pad. “With a friend.”

The three of them go down to the large staff room behind the circulation desk to look at the security footage. Not surprisingly, it cuts out a few minutes before the break in more than likely occurred.

“Well, I’ll give you a call if CSI turns anything up,” the sheriff says, pocketing his notepad. “And let me know if you see anything suspicious or find anything missing.” Derek nods, and Stiles is standing beside him, chewing on his nail. “Stiles.”

“Yeah, Pops, what’s up?”

The sheriff heaves an aggrieved sigh, and Derek suppresses a grin at the idea of raising Stiles. He feels a bit of sympathy for the man. “When were you going to tell me you were dating Derek?”

As Stiles sputters and nearly chokes, Derek’s eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead. “I, we’re not, um, you see, shit.” Stiles deflates, his shoulders drooping and making him look like a five year old in the oversized sweatshirt. “How did you know?”

“Well, son, I’m a trained investigator, and you are not the subtlest of people.” The sheriff is giving Stiles a hard stare, but Derek can see the amusement in the quirk of his mouth and the crinkle of his eyes. “You’ve basically been glued to his side since you arrived, your access card is at his place and there’s only one reason for _that_ , you have an alibi but can’t say _who_ , though you pretty much gave yourself away, and – “ the sheriff points to the sweatshirt. “That sweatshirt is from before you started going here because they changed that logo the year before you started. Plus, Derek wears it to his mentoring sessions at least twice a month.”

Derek glares at Stiles, and Stiles’ cheeks are a flaming red. “You just had to wear my sweatshirt, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, like the sweatshirt was the tip off,” the sheriff drawls gently. “Son, Stiles isn’t the only obvious one.” Derek wishes the earth would swallow him and his overwhelming embarrassment whole. The sheriff reaches out and claps Derek on the shoulder. “Come to dinner this week.”

“D-ad,” Stiles whines. 

“And you,” the sheriff says, pointing a finger in Stiles’ face. “We will have a conversation later about why you feel it’s necessary not to inform your father when you start up a relationship.”

“It’s not, I mean, I don’t think,” Stiles looks at Derek for help, and Derek just shrugs. “Fine, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

The sheriff shakes his head and leaves them with a final farewell. Stiles exits through the front of the building, and Derek through the staff entrance to the faculty lot. The entire drive home, he’s turning over everything in his head. By the time he’s back in the apartment and Stiles comes in not long after, Derek has his mind made up.

“It was Cassie and her friends,” Derek says as soon as Stiles drops onto the couch beside him. He still smells so delicious that it’s hard to concentrate. “God, you smell fucking divine.”

“What?” Stiles shakes his head in confusion. “Look, don’t distract me with your weird wolfy come ons. How can you accuse my friends of trying to break in?”

“It has to be them,” Derek says. “Did you lend them your card?”

“Did you really just fucking ask me that?” Stiles scoffs as he gets off couch and goes into Derek’s bedroom. He returns a few moments later, chucking the card at Derek’s head. It lands on his stomach. “Fuck you, Derek. How can you even think something like that?”

Derek grips the card in his hand and glares at Stiles. “Don’t you find it a _little_ convenient that you start fucking the academic librarian right around the time that your new friends want to get into that rare book room – which you tried to get me to let you into off the record – and then someone tries to break in, right after your shift?”

“You can’t seriously think I had something to do with this!” Stiles yells. “I was fucking you last night when it happened!”

“I’m well aware of that!” Derek is on his feet, glowering at Stiles. 

“You know, fuck you, and fuck this.” Stiles yanks the sweatshirt over his head and throws it at Derek. “I’m sick of answering to you like you’re my fucking father. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, dark magic or no.” Stiles stalks into the bedroom, and Derek follows him. “And fuck you for not trusting me. How could you even – “ Stiles’ voice breaks, and he pauses his packing, holding on to a t-shirt. “Why do you not trust me?”

Derek sighs as he drops onto the edge of the bed beside Stiles. He doesn’t answer.

“I’m not whoever you’re thinking about,” Stiles says, letting go of the t-shirt and coming to stand between Derek’s legs. Derek slides his arms around Stiles’ waist and presses his face against his stomach, inhaling the lingering aroma of their combined scent. “Talk to me, Derek. Because I’m two steps from walking out of that door forever.”

“Her name was Jennifer,” Derek murmurs against Stiles’ t-shirt. He slides his hands beneath the cotton and slides it up, revealing skin. Derek presses his cheek against the warmth of Stiles’ stomach. “She was my girlfriend through most of college and grad school. She was a druid, beautiful and talented. But she started experimenting with dark magic…”

“What happened to her?” Stiles asks quietly.

“She turned into a Darach, started sacrificing people. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Where is…” Stiles pauses and swallows. “Where is she now?”

“Dead. The official story is missing, but there was a whole battle with an Alpha pack.”

Stiles is touching him, his fingers carding through Derek’s hair. Boyd is the only one who knows about this, because he’d been there through it all. Voicing the words is hard; it’s the first time Derek’s ever talked about it.

“Boyd almost died, and I almost died. We got caught in the crossfire, and by that point, she was too far gone. She was consumed by dark magic.” Derek pulls away and looks up at Stiles, feeling completely wrecked. “I’ve already watched someone I love spiral out of control. I don’t want to watch it again.”

Stiles climbs into Derek’s lap, threading his fingers behind Derek’s head. “Thank you, for sharing that with me.” He drops a light kiss on Derek’s mouth. “I promise, I won’t let it consume me. I’m mostly interested in protection spells and defensive magic, and there are a few dark offensive spells I think will be helpful for my thesis and just generally.” At Derek’s face, Stiles cups Derek’s cheek. “Trust me, okay?”

“I trusted her,” Derek says, voice rough like sandpaper.

“I’m not her,” Stiles says, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Derek’s. “I’m not going to stop my work with the dark magic yet, but I’ll back off Cassie and her friends, okay? Just in case.”

Derek nods. “Thanks.”

Stiles smiles and kisses him.

*

Despite Derek’s hopes, things don’t get much better after that. Stiles does hang out with the trio less, but he doesn’t cut them out completely. Derek can’t expect him to, but it still upsets him.

“Stiles isn’t Jennifer,” Boyd tells Derek Saturday morning. Isaac is there, mentoring a newly bitten teenage werewolf. Derek’s sitting with Boyd, supervising from afar. 

“I know.”

“You’re not acting like it.” Derek turns and glares at Boyd. Boyd glares right back. He says, “Look Derek, you really care about Stiles, right?” Derek nods. “You’re probably falling in love with him.” Derek doesn’t deny it. “You have to trust him. He’s a smart, talented spark. He’s just trying to figure out his abilities, his strengths. He’s not the only spark using dark magic. We have faculty who are dark magic experts who aren’t dark mages.”

“I know.”

“Hey,” Boyd leans closer and lowers his voice. “I know Jennifer hurt you. Fuck, she almost killed both of us, okay? I remember how fucked up you were after she died. But if you don’t get over it, you’re going to fuck up your relationship with Stiles. And Derek, if you ever bring up that I said this again I’ll deny it, but I think that he might be it for you. He’s kinda perfect for you.” Derek looks at Boyd is surprise, and Boyd grins. “Who else has the patience to put up with your grumpy ass?”

Derek knows Boyd is right, and he’s feeling like he can do this until Stiles comes over after work for a late dinner. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and a faint singed smell about him. Worst of all, his aura has a slight purple tint to it.

“What did you do?” Derek asks. “You look like hell, and look and smell like dark magic.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Practiced some spells today. Yes, some of them were dark magic, but dude, I learned how to throw someone across the room without touching them.” Stiles grins, his eyes bright and excited, a look he’s seen before. Derek takes a deep breath, tries to remember to trust Stiles. “I can show you, if you want.”

“I’d rather you not.”

“Suit yourself,” Stiles says as he drops onto the couch and picks up the plate of pasta Derek warmed up for him. “But if we ever get into a fight with something, you’re gonna be thankful you have me around.”

A few days later, Derek is out to dinner with Stiles, the sheriff, and Isaac. Derek’s got his arm resting along the booth behind Stiles, Stiles leaning against him as he talks animatedly with his hands. Derek’s only half-paying attention to the story he’s already heard before when something catches his eye. Without thinking, he reaches out and grabs Stiles’ arm, stopping him mid-flail.

“Uh, Derek, what are you – “ Stiles stops talking when Derek reaches out and runs his fingers along the fresh wound on Stiles’ arm.

“Derek?” the sheriff says, part curiosity and part warning. Derek gently lowers Stiles’ arm so the others can see. “Stiles, what happened?”

“Oh, I was practicing some spells today.” He raises his fingertips, which are red and slightly swollen. “Seems not as much blood comes from the fingers as you’d expect.”

“Blood magic?” Derek asks incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He drops Stiles’ arm.

“It was just some sigils. Cassie said – “

Derek pulls his arm from behind Stiles and crosses them over his chest. He glowers at the table as Stiles continues telling the sheriff and Isaac about what he had done. The sheriff keeps glancing between them, his eyes calculating. 

Later, Derek’s two glasses into a bottle of aconite whiskey when there’s a knock on the apartment door. He’s not surprised to find Stiles on the other side. 

“What do you want?” Derek says, tired and not feeling like dealing with anything tonight. But Stiles pushes his way inside, and Derek doesn’t stop him.

“You are such a dick,” Stiles says when Derek’s shut the door and come into the living room. “I mean, did you have to be like that in front of my dad? He asked me if he should be worried about me, and if I was into dangerous magic.” Derek snorts. “And then he asked me if he should be worried about you, and if he needed to kick your ass.” Derek doesn’t laugh at that.

Stiles grabs Derek’s hand and drags him onto the floor until they’re sitting across from one another. Stiles pulls a penknife from his pocket, then pricks his finger. 

“Stiles,” Derek growls.

“Shut up,” Stiles says. “Just…trust me.”

Derek huffs as Stiles smears the blood on himself in a symbol. Then, Stiles mutters an incantation under his breath. Derek watches with wide eyes as the objects in his apartment start to shake, and a bright gold light starts shining from Stiles’ eyes. Then, with a burst of ozone and a bright flash, a faint golden haze separates him from Stiles.

“Try to touch me,” Stiles says. Derek reaches out, but when he touches the barrier, it burns his fingers. He yanks his hand back and hisses. Stiles smirks. He mutters something, and then the gold dissipates. 

Stiles reaches out and grabs Derek’s hand in his own. “Can I?”

Derek swallows and looks into Stiles’ eyes, a faint brightness still emanating from them. He finds that he’s not scared, that he trusts Stiles despite everything. Derek nods.

The relief that pours from Stiles is palpable, and Derek feels a surge of affection for him. Stiles squeezes his finger until a bead of blood is gathered at the tip, and then he draws a sigil across Derek’s forearm. As soon as the sigil is complete, Derek feels something surge into him, an explosion of power, and for a moment, he feels like he and Stiles are occupying the same space. But in the blink of an eye, the feeling passes and Derek is staring across at Stiles. It feels like electricity is coursing through his veins as Stiles mutters words in a deep, guttural language. His eyes are unfocused, and the aura surrounding him is so bright it’s almost blinding.

It’s in that moment that Derek realizes just how powerful Stiles is. It’s terrifying as much as it’s awesome, watching the sheer magical power emanating from him. 

Then, they’re surrounded by an almost imperceptible haze. Derek turns and reaches out to touch, but he can’t push through. The barrier is warm beneath his palm. Derek can feel Stiles even more clearly than he can with his werewolf senses, and he looks at him with a furrowed brow.

“Protection spell,” Stiles explains. “Stronger through blood magic. This shield will protect us from anything, unless a stronger mage comes along, but even then, with our bond, it’d be nearly impossible to break.”

“This is all dark magic?” Derek asks, sharing the intoxicated thrill of power Stiles is experiencing.

“You don’t need to be so nervous,” Stiles says, grabbing Derek’s hand. When Derek looks at him, Stiles says, “Side effect of the spell. We’re on the same wavelength, so I can feel everything you feel.” Stiles cocks his head to the side thoughtfully. “Is this how you always feel around me? Able to read me so easily?”

“I think this is more intense,” Derek breathes. He’s feeling a bit overwhelmed, surrounded by the dark magic, Stiles’ emotions, and just everything else.

Stiles leans forward and cups Derek’s check, sliding his hand around the back of his neck. He presses his forehead against Derek’s and they inhale a few shaky breathes. “It’s supposed to enhance the protection of the ones connected by the sigil, the shared emotions.”

“What else can you do?” 

“You really want to know?” Stiles asks in disbelief. Derek nods.

Stiles drops the incantation around them, and he gets up and motions for Derek to do the same. “Can I throw you against the wall?” he asks, eyes wide with excitement. 

Derek laughs, perhaps a bit hysterically. “How about just around the room? I’d like to not destroy my apartment.”

Stiles grins. Then, all emotion is gone when he throws his arm out with a flash of purple sparks, and Derek goes flying across the room. He stops suddenly and crashes to the floor, his wrist cracking. “Shit!” Stiles exclaims, rushing over and sliding to his knees in front of Derek. “Are you okay?”

“Damn,” Derek mutters, sitting up and wincing when he moves his arm. His wrist is broken. He glances over at Stiles, who now has a lavender tint around him and a slight burnt smell hanging on his skin. “You broke my wrist.”

“I am so sorry,” Stiles says, completely crestfallen. His hands hover over Derek’s wrist like he’s not quite sure what to do. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” Derek rubs his good hand down Stiles’ arm. “It’ll be healed in about fifteen minutes.” He digs his fingers into the meat of Stiles’ shoulder. “Do you know how powerful you are?”

Stiles blushes and looks down at the floor. “It’s really not that impressive, Derek.”

“Stiles, you slung me across the room, a fully grown Alpha werewolf. Do you know how resistant to magic werewolves are? And the protection charm? That connection we shared was intense.” He squeezes Stiles’ shoulder. “You’re gifted.”

“You’re not scared?” Stiles asks. He’s chewing on his lip, nervous and unsure. Derek leans forward and kisses him lightly.

“No. I…I trust you.”

Stiles lunges at him then, pushes him back onto the floor and enthusiastically attacks his mouth. Stiles climbs on top of Derek, and Derek slides his good hand up the back of Stiles’ shirt, fingers trailing along the smooth planes of Stiles’ back. His other hand is nearly healed, a dull ache as the bones repair themselves while Stiles kisses and writhes against him.

It’s intense and heated, in a way Derek’s not sure they’ve been before. They’re always excited and insatiable, but there’s something else here, a need and desperation Derek can’t quite put his finger on. 

After Derek’s wrist heals, they quickly strip down, and Stiles tells Derek not to move as he goes to get the lube and condom out of the bedroom. Derek threads his fingers behind his head and watches Stiles contently as he walks naked through the apartment. Stiles grins as he straddles Derek’s hips again, both of them already half hard. 

Derek kisses Stiles filthily as he fingers him open, wet and mostly tongue, until Stiles is rocking back on his fingers and moaning into his mouth. Then, Stiles opens the foil packet and licks Derek’s nipples as Derek slides the condom over his erection.

“So slow,” Stiles jokes as he kisses Derek again before pushing himself on his knees, and then Derek grips the base of his cock as Stiles slowly guides himself down. Derek watches Stiles’ face as he sinks down, Derek filling him inch by inch while Stiles’ lashes flutter against his cheeks, his mouth open in a soft “oh”, bright flush already spreading against his skin.

When Stiles is fully seated on Derek’s cock, he circles his hips a few times, and then he throws his head back and starts riding him. Derek bends his knees and digs his heels into the carpet, thrusting his hips up in shallow movements to meet Stiles’ rocking hips. 

They stay like that for a long time, just connected and enjoying the feel of each other. Eventually, Stiles leans down and gives Derek a breathy kiss, but Stiles nearly pulls off Derek’s cock, so Derek sits up, wrapping his arms around Stiles tightly as he holds him on his lap. Stiles’ arms are snaked around his neck, and Derek can barely contain himself. All the fighting with Stiles, the arguing about magic, the revelation of Stiles’ power and potential, and the realization that he trusts Stiles more than anything has stripped Derek raw, until he’s clutching onto Stiles and trembling.

Stiles is murmuring against Derek’s hair, and Derek mouths at Stiles’ neck. He worries a bruise into his skin, biting and tasting the flesh beneath his tongue.

Stiles’ movements get smaller and more urgent, his moans needy and high-pitched; Derek knows he’s close. Derek reaches between them and wraps his fingers around Stiles’ cock, sliding his fist along the shaft slowly. Stiles looks down at him with glazed, heavy-lidded eyes, and Derek leans up into him to kiss him.

Stiles comes with a long, drawn out moan, his hips rolling slowly as he spills over Derek’s hand. Derek’s orgasm hits him almost as soon as Stiles contracts tight and hot around him. Derek buries his face in Stiles’ neck as he cries out and grips him tightly.

They fall back to the floor, and Derek pants as he takes off the condom and ties it off. He drops it carelessly on the floor beside them, and then rolls onto his side to face Stiles. They lay like that for awhile, just silently staring at each other.

Derek wishes he could find something to say, but he can’t make the words come out. He feels too overwhelmed and terrified, but he hopes that Stiles knows that when Derek said _I trust you_ it was synonymous with _I love you._

*

Boyd, Isaac, and Derek are seated in the chairs and sofa, with Stiles on the floor, bent over the coffee table. He’s got papers strewn all over Derek’s living room; it looks like his messenger bag exploded.

“How does he get anything done?” Boyd asks, watching as Stiles rifles through some papers with a highlighter between his teeth.

“I wonder that all the time,” Derek laughs. 

“Organized chaos,” Stiles mutters distractedly. “I know where everything is.” He lunges for a pile, and grumbles, “Where the hell did I put that spell?”

They all laugh, and Derek nudges Stiles’ back affectionately with his foot. Isaac clears his throat suddenly, and Derek glances over.

“I have…a question,” he says slowly. Derek lifts his eyebrows. Isaac looks between Boyd and Derek, drumming his fingers nervously. “I…I was wondering…um…can I join your Pack?”

Derek rolls his eyes and then pushes off the couch. He goes over to the chair and drags his fingers across Isaac’s neck. “You’re already considered Pack,” Derek says. Isaac looks at him in shock. “But we can make it official on the next full moon.”

Isaac grins widely, and Derek catches the quick smile Stiles gives him from among his mess of papers. 

“Now where the hell is that book?” Stiles mumbles.

*

Thursday night, Derek and Stiles are sitting behind the circulation desk, tossing a ball of rubber bands back and forth. It’s after eleven, and the library is completely dead. Derek throws his next pitch wide, and Stiles almost falls out of his chair trying to catch it.

“Ass.”

“Not my fault you suck.”

Stiles tries to be tricky and throw the ball high and to the side, but with Derek’s reflexes, he catches it easy. “You have an unfair advantage.”

“Cry baby.”

“I think I’m close to finishing my thesis,” Stiles says as he tosses the ball. Derek catches it and sends it back.

“Really?”

Stiles nods and tosses the ball underhanded. “I finished translating a spell in this random book I found in the level one rare book room. The whole book is cool; it’s an old Icelandic magic book full of all sorts of weird spells. It took me forever to translate it, I had to get help from a professor from Iceland via Skype, which was interesting, let me tell you. If my translation is correct, I might be able to get my findings published.”

“Stiles, that’s really great. I’m really proud.” Derek smiles as he tosses the ball, and Stiles’ entire face lights up when he catches it.

“You’ll also be glad to know that I told Cassie I was going to stop going to her meetings.”

Derek pauses with the ball in his grip. “Really? Why?”

Stiles shrugs as he catches the ball. “Most of what I was doing was for my thesis research, and…” Stiles grips the ball and leans forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. He absently picks at one of the rubber bands. Derek leans forward, closer to Stiles. “I started to understand what you were saying,” Stiles says quietly. “The rush, the power…it was addictive. I could see how you could easily spiral down that path. I even found myself doing a few dark spells with them for fun.” Stiles wipes a hand across his face. “A few nights ago, I was lying in Cassie’s apartment, coming down from a magic high, and I felt it. The edge of that darkness, and then Cassie and Troy got up and started some blood magic ritual and tried to get me to join. I thought about it, but then I thought about my dad, and you, and Scott, and I left.”

Stiles looks at Derek, biting his lip nervously. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you I’d been going over to their place, doing more magic?”

Derek shakes his head. “I saw the purple tinting your aura, but I told you that I trusted you, and so I decided to trust you and stop worrying.” Stiles smiles. 

Derek leaves around 11:30, and he’s thinking about what to make Stiles for dinner the next night when everything goes black.

*

Derek wakes up with his head hurting something fierce. It’s pounding, his ears muffled like they’re filled with cotton. Sharp, burning pains are searing into his arms and leg. He blinks, the lights too bright overhead. Then, a face comes into his vision. 

_Cassie._

Derek growls, shifting as he pounces, but something is holding him down. He turns his head and sees that he is strapped to a table with ropes laced with wolfsbane. Cassie grins a feral, cruel grin.

“Comfortable?” she asks. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, Derek. The plan was always to use Isaac instead. He’s such a little fool, him and Stiles.” Derek lifts his head and surveys the room. Isaac’s tied to the table beside him, staring at Derek in fear. When Derek’s eyes land on the corner, he roars. Tied to a chair, with a gag in his mouth, is Stiles.

“Let them go,” Derek growls, struggling against the ropes. They are digging into his skin painfully, the scent of searing flesh heavy amongst the other scents in the room. The combination of wolfsbane, intense emotion, and concentrated magic is making Derek dizzy.

“So cute, you Alpha werewolves, thinking everyone is a member of your Pack to control.” Cassie shakes her head, then pulls out a small knife. The handle is engraved with symbols, and she uses it to cut a slit in Derek’s arm. Derek growls and snaps his jaws, and Cassie ignores him as she gathers some of his blood in a small vial.

“Derek, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” Isaac says, his voice weak and strained.

“It’s not your fault,” Derek responds. Stiles is fighting against his bonds, his muffled screams twisting inside Derek.

“See, Stiles wasn’t quite as cooperative as we’d have hoped,” Cassie says, as she takes the vial over to Troy and Brett. She pours Derek’s blood into a bowl filled with a mixture, and it hisses when the droplet hits the surface. “We thought he’d be easy to manipulate. Unpopular, awkward, lonely.” She glances over at Stiles with a pitying look. “Poor Stiles, always working the shitty shifts at the library or sitting alone in the dining hall with his nose in a magic book, only one friend in the world. But then he started fucking you, Derek, and well, he didn’t quite turn out like we’d hoped.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Derek growls.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Troy asks. “Power.”

“Stiles is the stronger spark I’ve ever met,” Cassie says as Brett mumurs an incantation over the bowl. Troy goes over to Stiles and slices a cut on his arm. Derek struggles against the restraints as Stiles howls in pain. “He would have been such a fantastic dark mage. He’d have been unstoppable. But you messed that up, Derek.” She turns to him with eyes that are almost completely black. “You wouldn’t let him have access to the second level rare book room, even his card wouldn’t grant us access after we took the trouble to clone it.”

Troy takes Stiles’ blood and dumps it into the bowl, and Derek can feel the crackle of magic gathering in the air. Cassie laughs gleefully.

“But the thing is, the book we needed wasn’t in that room, but right under our nose! Stiles is such a fool, not realizing the spells he was translating in those books from Old High German and Icelandic were _exactly_ what we needed. After he translated those Icelandic spells, Brett was able to use Stiles’ notes to translate one of the other spells in that book, one for increased power. The blood of a werewolf is extremely powerful, did you know? And Isaac was going to be our sacrifice.”

Everyone pauses and looks over in surprise when they hear a loud crash. Stiles has managed to knock himself over, onto his side. Troy rushes over to him and yanks him up by his hair. Derek feels a rage course through him that he can’t control; he wants nothing more than to rip out all of their throats.

“But you, Derek, oh you were so much sweeter. The ritual had to be done tonight, the night of the new moon, so we found Isaac right outside the library. And you, you were right inside!” Cassie cackles. “All we had to do was wait for you to come out of work. See, Derek,” Cassie says, dragging her finger along Derek’s arm. She leans close to Derek’s ear and whispers, “I didn’t know you were the Alpha.” She nods for emphasis. “Isaac told us yesterday about how he was going to officially join your Pack. And well, I thought after we sacrificed Isaac, we could try to capture you.” She grabs Derek’s chin, pinching it between her fingers as he snarls at her. “I didn’t know it would be so easy. So much for the mighty Beacon Hills Alpha.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Derek manages through his fangs.

Cassie smiles. Then, she flicks her finger. Derek’s chest starts glowing purple under his shirt, and then he begins writhing and groaning in pain. It feels like his chest is being ripped from his body. “The heart of an Alpha werewolf. The power we will obtain with that.”

Derek barely hears what happens next through the pain. There’s a scream, and then the whole room starts shaking. The pain lessens enough that Derek is able to lift his head. 

Stiles is glowing bright gold, the light coming from every pore of his body. Cassie’s concentration is distracted so she loses her grip on Derek, and he can breathe again.

“Stop him!” she screams. Troy runs toward Stiles, and somehow, still tied to the chair, Stiles throws Troy across the room. Then, Stiles focuses on Derek, and suddenly there is a golden haze between him and Cassie. She tries to reach through it, but it just burns her. “Kill him!”

Everything in the room starts shaking, and Derek can smell the increasing bitter scent of magic, feel the electricity in the air. With a flash of purple sparks, Stiles breaks free from the chair and stops Brett with an outstretched hand before he’s even close to him. Stiles tosses him across the room without a thought.

Then Stiles turns towards Cassie. His eyes are completely gold, compared to Cassie’s black ones. Cassie throws a spell Stiles’ way, but he easily dodges it and stretches both of his hands out. Streaks of gold shoot from his fingertips and wrap around her. She falls to the ground, unconscious.

The room goes dark, and Stiles drops to the floor.

“Stiles!” Derek shouts, the wolfsbane ropes burning all the way down to Derek’s muscle from all his fighting against them. He barely feels the pain. “Stiles!”

“I’m fine,” Stiles chokes out, his voice scratchy and thin. With shaky hands, his pushes himself to his feet. He walks over to Isaac and cuts one of his arm restraints, then leaves him with a knife to finish freeing himself as he goes over to Derek. He cups Derek’s face. “Are you okay?”

Derek nods, although his entire body is in pain. Stiles is safe, and that’s all that matters. 

Stiles cuts the bonds on Derek’s arms, and while Stiles is working on the ankle ones, Derek tries to sit up. He immediately feels an excruciating pain through his entire body, and he drops back down as he cries out.

“Derek, what is it?”

“Pain,” he says through gritted teeth. His body is trying to shift, but it’s too painful to shift, so he’s fighting that as well. Stiles rips the front of Derek’s shirt and pulls it open. 

“What is that?” Isaac says from above him.

“Whatever Cassie did to him,” Stiles replies from miles away. “Hold on, Derek. Stay with me. Listen to my voice.” Derek tries to focus on Stiles’ voice, repeating an incantation over and over. 

At first, Derek feels nothing except pain. But then, slowly, the pain starts to abate until he can breathe again. Then, it’s completely gone.

Derek opens his eyes, and Stiles is hunched over him, dark circles under his eyes, his gold aura edged with dark purple. When Stiles notices Derek looking at him, he smiles. 

Then he passes out.

*

Isaac calls the sheriff while Derek huddles on the floor, holding Stiles. Stiles’ heartbeat is pounding way too fast, and he smells like burnt hair and flesh. He’s ashen, drawn, and limp in Derek’s arms, but Derek can feel the heat coming off him, feel the dissolving magic curled inside of him.

Derek doesn’t let go of him even after the cops arrive. The sheriff drops to his knees beside them when he gets there, a broken expression on his face.

“He’s alive,” Derek says. “He passed out.” The sheriff runs his hands over Stiles’ hair, over his face. Stiles doesn’t move. 

It takes the sheriff, Isaac, and three EMTs to convince Derek to let go of Stiles long enough for the EMTs to take him. 

“Derek, I think you need to go with him,” the sheriff says. “Get yourself checked out. You look like hell.”

“But what about – “

“Isaac can tell us what happened.” The sheriff puts a hand on Derek’s arm. “Take care of yourself, and take care of Stiles until I can get there.”

“It’s my fault,” Derek says. “He saved me, that’s why he’s – “

“Don’t,” the sheriff says. “Stiles would do anything for you. And hey,” he pauses and squeezes Derek’s arm, forces him to look at him. “Stiles is going to be okay.”

Derek nods dumbly, and doesn’t object when the sheriff motions for two EMTs to come over and lead him into the same ambulance as Stiles.

*

Derek’s sitting in the uncomfortable chair by Stiles’ bed when Stiles wakes up. He blinks a few times, then looks around the room, sighing in relief when his eyes land on Derek.

“Thank God you’re okay,” Stiles says. He reaches a hand out, and Derek grabs it, threading their fingers. 

“You’re the one who was out for a couple of hours.”

Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand. “Did it work? Did I heal what she did to you?”

Derek nods. “How did you know how to do that?”

“Not all dark magic is bad magic.” Stiles smiles, and Derek leans his forehead against his shoulder. “There are a lot of protection, defensive, and healing spells. People like Cassie give dark magic a bad name.” Stiles slides his fingers into Derek’s hair, and Derek lifts his head. “What happened?”

“Isaac called your dad, the cops showed up, they got arrested.”

“Isaac okay?” Derek nods. “Where’s my dad?” 

“Still at the scene.”

A few nurses enter the room after they realize Stiles is awake, and Derek has to step outside. “Sir, you should really be resting,” one of the nurses tells him. Derek isn’t worried about himself; he’ll heal. He got the all clear from the doctor. Whatever Stiles had done had reversed whatever Cassie had done to his chest. All that was left was a dull ache and extreme fatigue. But Stiles was human, and between being tied up and expending that much magical energy, it’ll take him much longer to heal.

Derek is pacing along the hallway when the sheriff shows up half an hour later. “Is he okay?” the sheriff asks frantically when he rushes over to Derek.

“He’s fine,” Derek says. “The doctor’s in with him now.”

The sheriff reaches out and grips Derek’s shoulder firmly, and the connection grounds Derek. A sense of safety enters him, and he relaxes under the other man’s touch. “Derek, you look like shit.” Derek barks out a surprised laugh. “You should go home, get some rest.”

Derek glances at Stiles’ door, and the sheriff squeezes his shoulder and gives him a warm, tired smile.

Soon, the doctor lets them back into Stiles’ room. The sheriff goes and fusses over Stiles until Stiles is grumbling and pushing him away, but Derek can feel Stiles’ immense relief. 

“Dad, tell these doctors to let me go home. I’m fine.” Stiles glances around the room uncomfortably.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, kiddo?” The sheriff drags his eyes over Stiles’ injuries, looks at the dark circles under his eyes.

Stiles’ mouth is a hard line. “I’m going to get a lot more rest at home instead of here. You know I hate hospitals.”

“I know.” The sheriff sighs. “I’ll go find a nurse.”

Derek’s hovering in the corner, out of sight. Stiles motions for him to come closer, and when Derek’s beside the bed, Stiles grabs his hand. 

“Did anyone call Scott?” Derek shrugs, and Stiles grabs his cell phone from the table beside the bed. “Tell him what happened, and that I’m okay, and that I’m going to be at your place, and that he can come see me tomorrow.”

Derek nods and takes the phone out into the hallway when the sheriff returns with a nurse. Scott refuses to calm down until he talks to Stiles, so Derek awkwardly waits around until Stiles can reassure Scott. “Scott, I’m fine.”

“You almost died, man!” Scott’s near hysterical; Derek could hear him even without werewolf hearing.

“I’m very much alive, right? Unless you’re talking to a zombie, which would be just weird because then it would be all,” Stiles stops talking and instead breathes in his best zombie impersonation. Derek rolls his eyes fondly when Stiles grins up at him. “Look, I’m going to Derek’s and I’m going to sleep until tomorrow afternoon, maybe later. I’ll call you as soon as I’m up, and you can come over and snuggle me to your heart’s content, okay?”

Scott grudgingly agrees, and after some major persuasion by the sheriff and a promise from Derek that he wouldn’t leave Stiles unattended for the next twenty-four hours, they released Stiles. When Derek and Stiles get to Derek’s apartment later, Derek helps Stiles to the bedroom, and he collapses on the bed.

“I feel horrible.”

“Well,” Derek says, removing Stiles’ shoes and pants. “You did fight off three strong dark mages while tied to a chair, and then heal your werewolf boyfriend.”

“So, there’s no reason.”

“Nope, none at all,” Derek says with a smile as he smoothes Stiles’ hair back from his head. He sits on the edge of the bed beside him. “Thank you, for saving my life.”

“It was the least I could do,” Stiles says. “It was my fault. You were right about them.”

“Not really,” Derek says. “I didn’t think they were murdering psychopaths. I just wanted you to be careful.” Derek cards his fingers through Stiles’ hair gently. “Apparently, I had nothing to be scared of. You made dark magic your ally.”

“It’s because I’m awesome,” Stiles jokes. He closes his eyes and pats the bed beside him. “I want to snuggle. Get in the bed.”

Derek chuckles as he strips off his clothes, and gets in the bed. He helps Stiles out of his shirt and then arranges Stiles in his arms. He drops kisses along his forehead, temples, and hair.

“How did the protection spell work?” Derek asks after they’ve been sitting there for a few moments. “We didn’t have the sigils on us.”

“The protection spell works without the blood magic,” Stiles explains. “That just makes it stronger. If Cassie or the others had been stronger, they might have broken it.” Stiles idly draws what Derek realizes is the protection sigil across his chest with his fingertip. “I think we were still connected though, by the magic we did the other day.”

“Really?”

Stiles nods. “Magic takes awhile to fade. I think the sigils still gave us power.” Derek squeezes Stiles tighter and kisses his hair. “I was so scared tonight,” Stiles whispers.

“Me, too.”

“Let’s never do that again.”

“Good idea.”

Stiles sighs and curls closer to Derek. “I love you.”

The words shouldn’t surprise Derek after what they just went through; the events of tonight made how Stiles felt fairly obvious. But still, Derek is surprised to hear them uttered.

“I love you, too,” Derek whispers against Stiles’ hair.

Stiles smiles against his chest. “I like the sound of that.”

As Derek drifts off, he realizes he does, too.

-fin

**Author's Note:**

> \---> [tumblr if you want to say hi](http://thepsychicclam.tumblr.com)


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